Welcome to Hell or High School
by overthemoon07
Summary: AU high school fic. Mark's the new kid in school. After a runin with the school's asshole jock, Benny, Roger, Maureen and Angel take him under their wing... though he's also caught the eye of the philosophy teacher. cowritten by sobohemianlikeyou
1. Chapter 1

_Hey guys, it's us again... We kind of gave up on Back to School, but here it is... revisited. Hopefully you'll like it just as much. We changed a couple pairings, so they're now as follows: Mark/Collins (in the future), Roger/Maureen, Benny/Mimi and Angel/OC. And hey, we're not Jonathan Larson or his estate so we obviously don't own this. Though... we would not mind owning Roger... or Mark... or Angel... or Collins. So, read as you will, and reviews will be rewarded with muffins of your choice. -Fizz and Friz_

Mark Cohen pushed his glasses up his pale nose, trying to ignore the way his stomach was doing flips in his abdomen. He could feel sweat forming on his brow. Clearing his throat, he tossed the end of his striped scarf over his shoulder before climbing up the stairs of his new school. West High, creative name. He could practically feel his inspiration draining as he entered the main hall. Of course, school normally did that to him, but the newness of the building he was in just made him feel… empty. What a way to start his career here.

However, as he followed the neatly printed signs that pointed him to the office, he passed an open door. Faint guitar music was wafting from the room, accompanied by keyboards, drumbeats, and two voices. Peeking around the door, Mark saw a group of three boys, one playing acoustic guitar, one on keyboards and the other softly beating a bongo. Somehow, the three instruments merged nicely, as did the voices of the guitarist and keyboardist. Mark watched them for a few moments. A slight smile turned the corners of his thin lips up. If there were people like this here, then maybe not all hope was lost.

The spell was broken by a locker slamming, and Mark straightened up. He cleared his throat and continued on his way, thinking of the interesting picture that the boys had made. The first one, the guitarist, had spiked blond hair, roots showing slightly where he had bleached it. His nails were black, and Mark had seen a tattoo peeking out from his short-sleeved ACDC shirt. The keyboardist was also blond, though his was natural and shaggy, falling into his eyes as he played. His fingers flowed over the keys, seemingly unhindered by the numerous silver rings adorning them. The drummer was something different altogether. Hispanic, thin, feminine features and a bright blue and purple shirt that no straight boy would be caught dead in. He brought a little flavor to the group, even without his funky drumming style. He was so caught up in his mental description of the musicians that he nearly bypassed the office altogether. However, a large black boy shoved his shoulder as he passed, alerting him back to reality. The other boy growled a "Watch where you're going" before continuing on his way.

Mark swallowed and adjusted his glasses again. Despite the presence of the musicians, he had the feeling that today was going to be a long day,

Roger strummed a final chord, letting it fade slowly with the keyboard as the bongo fluttered down softly. It was another moment before his eyes opened to see his band mates looking equally as peaceful. They hadn't been playing in the mornings for long, but once they had started, Roger found it as invigorating as his morning coffee. He felt a beatific grin spread on his lips, mimicking his keyboardist's expression. The drummer, however, was always a different story. Angel was bouncing, for lack of a better term, behind his bongos.

"That was our best yet, I think!" Angel smiled widely, adjusting the bracelets that ran halfway up his arm. Roger shook his head fondly. The Latino always had too much energy in the morning, in his opinion.

The boy sitting behind the keyboard laughed softly. "You say that every morning, _magnifique_," he murmured, leaning over to kiss Angel's cheek gently. Astin and Angel were rather open about their relationship. They got shit for it sometimes, but whenever someone gave them a hard time in Roger's presence, the heckler walked away with either insults being hurled at them or a black eye. They insisted that Roger didn't need to protect them, but he still did it. Roger looked after his own, and Astin and Angel were definitely part of 'his own.'

Everyone else saw Roger as an unmotivated, lazy, arrogant asshole who wasn't going anywhere in life but the local gas station. But his own, his friends knew different. He was fiercely loyal, fiercely dedicated to his music and fiercely determined that he was going to make it in the music industry. Every time he thought of his future, his band, he couldn't help but smile.

But right now, his life was pretty good. He had Astin and Angel to jam with, he had a gorgeous girlfriend and he had his guitar. Sure, he had a shitty home life and a slut who chased him at every turn, but really, those things paled in comparison with what he did have. He set his guitar to the side and stretched lightly, looking over at his friends. Angel was currently in Astin's lap, their foreheads pressed together, hands clasped between their chests as they shared short, soft kisses. "Hey you two, any chance I can talk to you before the bell rings?" he called out, teasing. Angel pulled back, grinning, still seated in his boyfriend's lap.

"Don't take it out on us, just 'cause your _Chiquita_ isn't here, Roger," he teased back. Astin rubbed Angel's back lightly.

"Yeah, where is Mo, anyway?"

Roger sighed. "She said she had to show some new kid around the school. Classrooms, gym, shit like that." He frowned a bit. "Thought she'd be back by now though. She said she would bring him by here, introduce us."

"And this," Maureen took another deep breath before trudging down the hall, dragging the scrawny blond boy behind her. "Is the art wing. There's Mrs. Robinson's room and Mrs. Labbe, Mr. Drew… he's fabulous," she giggled, flapping her hand slightly as they continued down. Mark nodded, chuckling nervously as the girl blabbed on.

He was trying to take in everything she was talking about, but she talked so god damned fast. There were so many names and hallways and cliques to remember, Mark just hoped she wouldn't quiz him later. Finally, she paused, giving Mark a chance to catch his breath and fish his crumpled schedule out of his pocket while Maureen checked her cell phone. She muttered something under her breath before her fingers flew over the keypad. Mark shook his head, letting a small smile rest on his lips for the first time since his mother had informed him that the family was moving to New York.

"Alright, last stop, I promise," she chirped, stuffing her phone back into her pocket before grabbing his arm again. "It's right down the hall."

Before Mark could protest, she'd charged off again, dragging him like a rag doll behind her. Luckily, class hadn't started yet and the halls were fairly empty. Mark was thankful for that. He was pretty sure he'd have been plowed over otherwise.

"This is the chorus room," she turned her head to tell him as they approached an open door. Mark nodded, the room looking familiar. He'd been there earlier that morning, before having met the bubbling ball of energy who called herself Maureen. Slowly, Mark poked his head around the doorway, set on easing his way in, not wanting to interrupt the rehearsal. But Maureen blast by, grabbing his arm again and dragging him inside.

"Hi baby," she chirped, turning towards the bleach blond boy. He smiled, taking his guitar out of his lap and standing. Mark felt his cheeks flush as the boy smiled, something stirring in his stomach right up to the point where Maureen planted a big kiss on his lips. Mark sighed, but smiled nonetheless, standing quite awkwardly while his tour guide made out with who appeared to be her boyfriend.

"Roger, this is Mark," she said, stepping back and motioning to the boy. "Mark, this is Roger. And Angel and Astin."

Mark turned his attention up towards the piano bench where the other two boys were cuddling and waved shyly.

"Mark," Roger nodded, extending his hand. Mark stared for a moment before coming out of his trance and shaking it.

"Nice to meet you," the Latino boy grinned from the lap of his boyfriend.

"Uh, you, too," Mark smiled.

"Mark moved here from New Jersey," Maureen announced, wrapping an arm around Roger. "He's a little bit shy."

This caused Mark to flush an even deeper shade of scarlet that Roger didn't know was humanly possible. He scuffed his sneaker against the grey carpet, his backpack now dangling from one shoulder and shrugged slightly.

"It's okay," Angel smiled. "So is Maureen."

Mark tried muffle a laugh, which caused him to snort, sending Angel into a fit of giggles as well. Mark sighed, feeling a bit more relaxed than before. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought after all.

The morning hadn't been that bad. He'd wound up in honors chemistry (he had no idea why) but the teacher seemed cool, if not a bit strict. The blond guy, Astin had been in his class. Luckily, Astin hadn't had a lab partner already, so the teacher paired them together. Mark felt a little more at ease around Astin after a while, finding his dry sarcasm highly entertaining. While they worked on combining chemicals in just the right order, Astin had talked about his relationship with Angel. They weren't the only gay couple at the school, but they certainly got the most shit for it in Mark's humble opinion from the hints Astin dropped. He was curious as to why, but he didn't want to push his luck by asking.

His second class of the day was English with Ms. Carlson, who was fantastic. His classmates, sadly, were not. None of his new friends were in this class, but unfortunately, the boy who Mark accidentally ran into earlier was. He shot him dirty looks the entire class, making Mark cringe. The paler boy could hear him talking to his equally large buddies while a thin Latino girl clung to his arm, looking at Mark curiously. Once the bell rang, Mark gathered his things as quickly as he could, intent on not running into the boy again. No such luck.

The black guy sidled in front of him, backing him up against a locker. "What's your name, new kid?" he asked in a low, smooth voice. Mark gulped inaudibly, eyes flicking to the posse behind him.

"M-Mark," he stuttered, cursing his shaking voice. He reached up to push his glasses up his nose again, making the other boy smirk.

"Well, M-Mark, you'd do well to learn that it's not very… acceptable at this school to go plowing over the star quaterback." His friends laughed and jeered at his mock-stutter. "Good one, Benny!" one of them cheered.

Benny reached out, and immediately, the skinny girl from before sidled up to him. He dropped his arm around her shoulders, his hand barely brushing her chest. Mark's eyes followed his hand, and when Benny noticed, he pushed the girl behind him, ignoring her soft squeak. "Be quiet, Mimi, I've gotta teach the new kid that it's also not nice to ogle someone else's girlfriend…"

Mark's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "But I - " Mark didn't have time to protest as Benny shoved him back into the lockers. He collided painfully with the metal, looking up helplessly as Benny's arm drew back.

"Hey!" Every face in the group turned towards the person yelling. Another, older man was coming down the hall, an angry expression on his face. "Detention, Coffin!" he called. Benny immediately tried to protest, but he was silenced with a wave of a hand. "The rest of you, scatter. Unless you want to join Mr. Coffin…" The other boys quickly departed, as did Mimi after a moment. "You two, with me."

Mark followed Benny and the older man (he assumed he was a teacher) down the hall. By the time he got into the room, the teacher was writing on a pink slip of paper, giving it to Benny once he was done. "I'll see you this afternoon, and be glad I'm not reporting this." Benny scowled at him, leaving with a grumble. Mark lingered near the door, unsure of why he was here.

The teacher smiled warmly at him. "Come in, I don't bite. I'm Mr. Collins, I teach philosophy." Mark hesitantly stepped in, sitting at one of the front desks. It was then that he got a good look at the older man. He was extremely handsome, with warm chocolate skin and eyes to match. He was a bit imposing because of his bigger frame, but everything was in perspective, creating one of the more attractive men Mark had seen in his life. "And you are…"

Mark stared for a moment more before shaking his head slightly to clear it. "Mark. Mark Cohen. I'm, uh, new here."

"Thought you might be. I know most of the kids in this school by sight, but you didn't seem familiar. So, why was he trying to hit you?"

Again, it took him a moment to answer, this time distracted by his mellow, soothing voice. "I ran into him earlier, and he thought I was ogling his girlfriend… like I'd be interested…" With his eyes downcast, he didn't notice the flutter of a smile cross the teacher's lips. Collins was about to say something when another bell rang. "I, uh, better get to my next class," Mark murmured, looking back up at the teacher. "Thanks, Mr. Col-"

"Just call me Collins. Everyone does. Come visit me sometime, Mark. I'd like to talk to you some more." Mark grinned, stepping down firmly on the urge to blush. They both stood, walking to the door. Collins clasped Mark's shoulder for the briefest of moments right as he walked out. When he reached his next class a few minutes later, he could still feel the warmth of Collins's hand through his sweater.

Mark sighed as he pushed through the open doors and stepped outside onto the walk way. He'd survived his first day at West High amazingly enough. He'd been having nightmares for weeks about getting lost or tripping down stairs and spilling everything everywhere… even going to school naked. Today had gone much better than he'd expected, with the exception of his run in with Benny, but even that had turned out okay in the end.

He was about to head towards his bus when something clunked him in the head from behind. Mark winced, clutching the back of his head before turning around to find out what had been thrown. His face dropped as well as the notebook he was carrying as the large bully stepped forward, his gang of ghouls close behind. On the ground at Mark's feet sat a football.

Benny laughed as Mark leaned over to pick it up, smacking his buddy in the chest and conjuring up a round of chuckles from his posse. "That's right, Cohen, pick it up." Benny held his hand out, waiting for the ball to be returned.

Mark held onto it, staring at Benny, unable to move. His knees locked up, hands sweating as he clutched the ball.

"Gimme the ball," Benny growled, taking a step forward. Again, the blond didn't move and Benny took another step forward, his hand forming into a fist. Mark's mind was screaming at him - _hand over the ball, moron, before we get clobbered! - _but the neurons wouldn't fire.

"Give him the ball," a voice squeaked from behind. Mark's eyes darted up in time to see Mimi, Benny's girlfriend, cover her face with her hands.

Mark turned his attention back to the fist that threatened to smash his face in. His eyes widened, grip on the ball tightened and the fist flew. Squeezing his eyes shut, Mark ducked, hoping that there was a slight chance that he could escape another bloody nose. He didn't have the money for a new pair of glasses either. A yelp rang through the air and Mark, unsure if it was he who had made the noise, opened an eye. He could see, there was no blood on the ground. Tipping his head up, he saw Benny's fist with another fist clenched around it. Behind him stood the rocker from before, Maureen's boyfriend, Roger. A tight grimace stretched across his face, a growl rumbling in his throat.

"Back off, Coffin," he snarled, giving Mark a nudge as he gripped Benny's fist tighter.

Mark snuck out from between the two boys, standing up straight, eyes wide as he found he was still clutching the football. The look on Benny's face was priceless but Mark was too scared to laugh. Benny finally managed to shake free of Roger's grip.

"Oh, what's he, your body guard?" Benny snickered. "Your boyfriend? Davis has himself a boyfriend."

"Fuck off," Roger growled, taking a step towards Benny, who winced and shuttered. "Leave the kid alone. I suggest you run along to your little detention and don't touch him again. Or you'll answer to me." Roger reached over and ripped the football out of Mark's hands and chucked it hard at Benny, who caught it, groaning quietly.

He opened his mouth to rebuttal, but closed it and scowled before waving his group off and turning back towards the parking lot. Mimi waved over her shoulder at Roger when Benny wasn't looking before scurrying off after him.

"Uh, th-thanks," Mark managed when he could speak again.

"No problem," Roger smiled, whacking his shoulder lightly. "Benny's an asshole. Don't worry about it. Need a ride home?"

Mark turned in time to watch the busses rolling out of the drive way. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Alright, come on, Cohen," he chuckled, throwing an arm around the kid before steering him off towards the parking lot.

Angel and Astin strolled out of the front doors just in time to see Roger leading Mark off to the parking lot, arm around his shoulders. Angel felt a small smile bloom on his lips, an expression that faded quickly when he saw Benny strolling towards them, Mimi on his arm. As always, Benny shoved his shoulder into Angel's, making him stumble. "Fags," the quarterback coughed, starting a round of laughter from his friends.

Astin caught Angel around the waist. Pulling the smaller boy back against him, he glared at Benny and the other jocks. "Yes. We are fags. Homos. Cocksuckers. Fairies, if you prefer. We remember that quite well without you reminding us, Coffin," he spat, holding his boyfriend protectively. Angel's eyes remained on Mimi, pleading with her silently to call off her boyfriend before his ended up with another black eye. Mimi, for once, relented and tugged gently on Benny's arm.

"Come on, Ben, you don't want more trouble. Let's go." Benny rolled his eyes but gave in to Mimi's plea.

"See you around, faggots." With that, his posse disbanded. Astin turned Angel around in his arms, holding him close. Angel buried his face in Astin's neck. Even after months of run-ins with Coffin, it still upset Angel quite a bit.

"Shh, _magnifique_…" he soothed, rubbing Angel's back as he buried his face in the blond's neck. Angel's shaking subsided under Astin's touch and constant chant in soothing French. For the millionth time, Astin wished he had Roger's balls or strength or.. .something. Something to help him stand up to that bastard. He couldn't stand what he did to Angel, how he upset him. But instead of beating the shit out of Coffin like he wanted to, he held Angel, planting kisses on his scalp to calm him.

"Ast? Ang? You guys okay?" Astin looked up from Angel to see Maureen barreling down the stairs towards them. Angel sniffed, raising his head out of Astin's neck. "Angel? Baby, what's wrong?" She slung an arm around Angel's shoulder, Astin's arm still firmly around his waist.

Astin growled softly. "Fucking Coffin and his cronies."

Maureen let out a soft scream of outrage. "That bastard! I swear, someday I am going to kick him so hard in the balls that it'll take him a week to find 'em again!" Angel, despite his upset, laughed. The small sound brought a smile to Astin's lips. It usually took him a while before he could Angel to smile again, so he was grateful for Maureen's impassioned threat.

"Would be greatly appreciated, Mo. Let me know when you plan on doing it, I'd like to see it," Astin said dryly. Angel laughed again, snuggling into Astin's side. "You okay, baby?" The slight Latino nodded, but Astin could tell he wanted to leave. "We're gonna head out, Maureen. See you later?"

Maureen sighed huffily. "Yeah, I guess. Where's Roger?"

"He left, with that new kid. Benny was harassing him and Roger called him off."

A soft, surprising smile bloomed on Maureen's face. "He did? Ah, well then, I am prepared to forgive him for stranding me here. I'll hitch a ride home with Joanne after rehearsal." She giggled softly. "Bye guys."

Astin waved, still holding Angel close, one hand stroking his hip. "Bye Mo." Gently, he turned Angel around and started leading him to his car. Other than Angel, his car was the most treasured thing in his life. Angel and Roger teased him mercilessly about loving his restored-but-still-shitty '65 Thunderbird. It roared to life a moment later, the radio blasting out the local rock station. Astin, still seeing traces of fear and upset in Angel's eyes, leaned over and took his hand, bringing it to his lips. "Je t'aime," he murmured softly.

Angel smiled, his heart melting. "Te amo, querido, para siempre." With a satisfied smile, Astin let go of his hand and set about pulling out of the parking lot.

"Thanks for the lift, Jo," Maureen shouted over her shoulder as she slammed the door to the light green Civic, hoisting her bag up over her shoulder. With a wave, she turned and headed up the walk way, humming softly. As she approached the door, her fist lifted to rap at the door, knocking not being something she did often.

Roger groaned softly, awakened by the noise at the front door, and rolled off the couch, scuffing towards the door. He'd barely gotten it open when Maureen burst in, ranting and raving already, chucking her bag down onto his feet. He hissed before following her, unable to get a word in edgewise as his girlfriend hollered, kicking her sneakers off as well.

"Woah, woah," Roger finally shouted, cutting her off. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging gently before rubbing his eyes. "First of all," he murmured, his hands stretching forward, sliding over her cheeks and pulling her forward. Roger pressed a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back and smiling. "There. Second of all, could you repeat that… slower?"

Maureen grinned, kissing him back and dropping down onto the couch. "Fucking Benny," she began.

"Oh, don't get me started. I saved your friend there, Mark, from getting his ass handed to him on a silver platter after school there."

"I know," she beamed, reaching over and squeezing his knee. "Angel and Astin told me. I'm proud of you, baby."

Roger grinned, tugging her into his lap. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, leaning in and kissing her neck.

"Well, after he terrorized Marky, he deemed it necessary to harass Ang and Ast. Angel was nearly in tears. I swear to God, I'm gonna castrate that boy. I will kick him so hard…"

Roger chuckled softly against her neck, his stubble scratching against her.

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, offended. "Roger Davis, I-"

"I'm not, I'm not," he laughed, wrapping his arms around her. "You're just so damned cute. I know you could kick his ass. I feel bad for the day he crosses you."

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, relaxing back into his arms. "I just don't get him. Douche bag."

"Don't worry, baby. Karma's a bitch."


	2. Chapter 2

Hello faithful readers!

Fizz and Friz here. We have an update for you! Actually, two new chapters! But Fizz decided we should make a pen name for the both of us instead of using mine. So if you'd like to get the update, please check us out at fizznfrizz . It's our joint name and where the story will be posted from now on as well as any other joint fic. This is still my account, so I will be posting my own fics occasionally. Please go check it out.

Thanks a lot!

Fizz and Friz


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